


Destruction

by Jeldenil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Post-War, Sad, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeldenil/pseuds/Jeldenil





	

He had found bodies before. He'd seen many people die, too. Every time he went out on one of his Auror jobs, he had to be prepared to face devastating horrors. He knew that. He should not have been shell-shocked like this. 

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the scene he found in the unassuming Leicester flat. The place was ripped apart, literally. Wallpaper was torn down, furniture demolished like somebody had gone at it with an axe. Maybe they had. In the bathroom were traces of a large fire, and the entire flat stank like something rotting had been burned. There was blood. Not even that much, but enough sticky spots on strange places – against the ceiling, in a discarded drawer, on the lid of a pan- to know someone was either bleeding out or dead. 

He found him, folded up inside a kitchen cabinet, limbs painfully twisted to fit the body in the cramped space. There was no mistaking his identity. The white-blond hair, usually so pristine, now matted in dried blood. And that was when Harry had to call for back-up.

When Robards arrived, he found Harry in a corner, holding the body in his arms. He wasn't crying. But he was talking to it, asking it for forgiveness over and over again.   
“I... I failed him,” he choked when he became aware of Robards' presence. “I should have... I was too late.”

They gave him time off while the rest of the Aurors analysed the scene, trying to make sense of what little clues there were. Harry didn't go home, however. He went straight to the part of St Mungo's where they kept the bodies, asking the magical coroner a million questions, and eventually getting permission to finish processing the body.

“Draco,” he whispered, paying no heed to the bewildered undertaker who supervised him as he started washing the blood out of those incredibly blonde hairs, the muggle way.   
“Draco.”

It was a beautiful day when they buried him. The sun was burning and it just felt so wrong. Harry's face was finally wet. Finally he could shed the tears he had been holding back since he'd found him.  
As Ron walked up to him, an empathic hand on his shoulder, he knew what his best friend was going to say.

“He did this himself, Harry. You know how he'd disappeared from the public eye after the war. He believed he was tainted. You couldn't have saved him.”


End file.
